


Simon vs. Bram's Ticklish Agenda

by TheMadKingTargaryen



Category: Love Simon (2018)
Genre: Bottom Simon, Cute Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier, Fanfic, Fanfiction, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Male - Freeform, POV Simon, Smut, Story, Tickle Fights, Tickling, Ticklish Simon Spier, Top Bram Greenfeld, Torture, tickle, tickled, ticklish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKingTargaryen/pseuds/TheMadKingTargaryen
Summary: Simon loves Bram. He loves his laugh, his jokes, his eyes, the way his ears go red when he's embarrassed. What he doesn't love is his obsession with tickling Simon when he least expects it.At least, that what he tells Bram...
Relationships: Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Simon vs. Bram's Ticklish Agenda

"Hey, Simon. Why can't you trust atoms?"

I thought I'd never get used to just sitting next to him. Blue. Bram. And I was right. I'm still not used to it. It still feels just as exhilarating as it did the first time, like my skin is fizzing and my heart is going to blast off into space it's beating so fast. When he's sitting next to me, so close our legs are touching, I can't stop the hairs on the back of my neck from standing up, can't stop my pupils from dilating or my mouth from curling upwards. 

You may be thinking that this is a bit of an extreme reaction for just sitting next to someone, and I completely agree with you. It's not like we're doing anything to warrant such a reaction, not like we're doing that other stuff. It's not like his hands are holding my hips or his lips are on mine. He's literally just sitting next to me, on my bed, chatting with me in a completely non-sexual way.

Oh God. Am I an over-reactor?

Shit.

Then again, it's not completely my fault. Bram is the first person I've ever been able to be completely comfortable around, completely myself. For once in my goddamn life I can stop acting and lying and just be myself. Be Simon. The fact that I can sit this close to him without it being awkward or uncomfortable or taboo or weird means the world to me. I finally feel like a real person. Like the fictional Simon Spier is dead.

I got a bit real there, didn't I? Sorry about that.

"Oh God. Why?" I said, rolling my eyes. Bram always liked to whip out these corny jokes when I was least expecting it to make me laugh. Sometimes it works. Sometimes.

"They make up everything!" He said, with the cutest expression on his face, as if he had just delivered the funniest joke ever written. And, for some reason, this one really tickled me. It took a split second for me to get it and then I started laughing uncontrollably, screwing my eyes shut and clutching my stomach, falling backwards onto the bed with the force of my amusement. Bram twisted to look at me, a beaming smile on his face.

"That is the dumbest one yet!" I said, then continued laughing, a deep belly laugh that made me laugh even harder. Something about Bram's delivery mixed with the goofy look on his face had caught me completely off-guard.

"You like it?" He said, starting to laugh himself.

I couldn't even respond I was laughing so hard. I'd caught the giggles and the sight of Bram laughing did not help one bit. What is it about other people laughing that is so fucking funny? I was trapped in a loop of laughing unstoppably, getting my breathing slightly more under control, thinking about what had just happened and laughing again. Occasionally I would even let out a snort, which was absolutely mortifying. Tears had formed in my eyes by the time the laughing subsided fully and I had my hands clasped across my stomach, the occasional half giggle making its way out like an aftershock.

"You are the worst." I panted, splaying my hand across his leering face and pushing him away gently.

"You love me really." He said, and rested his head on my stomach, making my insides go all fuzzy.

"Yeah." I said, sighing with contentment and running my hand through his hair. "I do."

We stayed like that for a while, I couldn't tell you how long. Not that it mattered anyway. My parents were both at my sister's concert. And no, I'm not an asshole for not going: each member of the concert only got two tickets so I was given a free night with Bram...which, so far, we had spent goofing around so hard we forgot to do the thing that teenagers in love normally do when given a free house for hours on end.

"Your laugh is next level." Bram said suddenly, sitting up with a look in his eyes like a playful puppy.

"Shut up." I said, suddenly self conscious about the snorting that I'd let slip, but Bram soon amended his statement.

"No, no, no, no I mean it's amazing. It's one of the cutest sounds I've ever heard. I love it."

"Ew. I hate it. I always snort. It's embarrassing as fuck."

Bram clambered on top of me and laid his head on my chest, hugging me tightly with a sing-song voice. "Nooooo! The snorts are the best part! Snorts tell you when a person is genuinely laughing." He snuggled into my chest for a few moments as I blushed (I told you I wasn't used to it), and then maneuvered himself so that his face was looming over mine and his hazel eyes were staring into mine. We kissed for a while (again, I couldn't tell you how long. Time seemed to evaporate whenever I was with Bram) and then, when he eventually found the motivation to separate his lips from mine, he whispered something. "Can I hear it again?"

I frowned, puzzled at what he meant. "I can't laugh on command."

"You can laugh at my command though." He said, an alarming smirk on his face.

"What do you m--" I started, and then realised where his hands were. He had surreptitiously slipped his hands under my shirt and positioned them at my sides. I had thought he was just feeling me up, as he so often did, but now I knew the uncomfortable truth. Bram had his mischievous face on and his hands suddenly burned white hot on my bare skin, searing with their devastating potential. "Bram..." I said, voice grave and apprehensive. "Please...don't tickle me."

He flipped his bottom lip like a sulking child and fluttered his eyes. "But it's fun...you love it really..."

Loathe though I am to admit it, I actually didn't hate it that much, though I'd never let Bram know that. Even though it was mildly torturous, it was kinda exhilarating, and hey, it usually meant Bram being on top of me for a while, which is always welcome.

Don't judge me.

Still, just because I don't entirely despise it doesn't mean I don't have a reflexive instinct to avoid it at all costs, even if that means begging like a wimp.

I gripped his wrists gently and put on my cutest face. "Baby...have mercy..."

"Don't you 'Baby' me, Mr Spier." And he pinched my sides ever so gently, just enough to make my breath hitch and my body to go into full on fight-or-flight mode.

"Bram..." I warned meekly, because I was the one in the compromising position. His weight was pinning me to the bed and in a battle of brawn Bram would beat me hands down. I was his prisoner until he decided otherwise. And Bram still had that cheeky look in his eyes, the one where he knew he was doing something he shouldn't be, but couldn't care less.

I.e. I was royally fucked.

"Sorry about this." He said, and pecked me on the cheek in apology. "It's just too good to resist."

And with that he squeezed my bare sides with his stupid sexy fingers with a stupid sexy look on his face and I jolted like I'd been tased. "BrAHAHAM!" I giggled as he brutalised the fleshy bundles of nerves at both of my flanks. "Ehehehehehee!"

"Ahhh, there's the laugh I love!" Bram sang in a hyper-patronising voice, purposely trying to make me blush, and succeeding. He tased my sides for around a minute (time was easy to measure when I was being tickled, apparently) and then diversified, taking his pestering fingers up to my ribs and playing them like a xylophone. That combined with the occasional return to the flanks left me squealing like a pig and writhing desperately under his weight, wanting to flail my arms to search for an escape route but not willing to risk attracting attention to my armpits. They were a serious weak spot for me.

"Hahaha-HEEE-hee-heghgh!" I shook as my boyfriend's hands patrolled under my shirt in a way that would have been extremely arousing under normal circumstances. Not that it wasn't arousing, my body just had other things to focus on at that moment.

After another considerable while of this Bram's hand's ceased the tickling but stayed where they were, and he loomed his face over mine once again, except this time I was blushing profusely and had a thin film of perspiration on my forehead.

"Sorry about that." Bram said, as if I could ever possibly hope to stay mad at someone like him.

"No you aren't."

I suppose some naive part of me had hoped that that would be the end of it. How could I have been so stupid? Once Bram Greenfield started something he didn't stop until he was completely satisfied, and something told me he wasn't satisfied yet.

The handsome man sighed. "Yeah. You're right. And I'm not sorry about this either." He plunged his warm hands deeper up my t-shirt, pulling it up and exposing my stomach simultaneously, and jammed his probing digits into my armpits, which I had foolish left open and vulnerable. Before I could clamp my arms down he was already in, already having breached any line of defense I could have mustered.

"YeeeeahahehehahahahahahaBRAHAHAHAHAM!" I shrieked, still being completely shocked by the ferocity and swiftness of the attack even though I knew he wasn't finished. His nimble fingers proded and massaged the tender flesh of my armpits with a brutality that made me gasp and cackle deeply, echoing the extremity of my belly-laugh earlier that was caused by much less torturous means. If I clamped my arms down it just trapped Bram in my fleshy hollows, giving his fingers more flesh to torment with less effort, so I fought my reflex and lifted my arms slightly.

Now, my armpits aren't the hairiest I've ever seen, but they do have considerable puffs of my brown hair, and I wasn't sure whether that was a blessing or a curse. As I lay there, getting the ever-loving fuck tickled out my me by my boyfriend who was usually an angel (I swear), I pondered the science of this. Surely no hair would mean that more skin was getting stroked and titillated more, but to me the hair made it feel worse. Any tug or movement of the hairs also tugged on the the skin at the base of them, and gave the impression that Bram had seventeen fingers on each hand. Which, let me tell you, was NOT fun.

"Ok, I'm a little bit sorry. It's just the look on your face is too goddamn cute" Bram said, not stopping despite his half-apologetic voice. I was writhing underneath him wildly but he had me pinned down with startling efficiency. Where did he learn to do that?...

...It's kinda hot.

When it was approaching three minutes since he started tickling me I was becoming desperate, and I was even more sweaty than before. My eyes were wide at the intensity of the tickles, my face trapped in a constant look of shock. With a burst of energy I quickly reached for the pillows on my bed, the only thing that could be used as a weapon (albeit a pathetic one) anywhere near me.

I had just grabbed it when Bram struck forward like a viper, using one of his hands to pin both of my wrists above my head, his other hand retracting from my armpit and t-shirt and resting at the base of my ribs. The silver lining was that the tickling had stopped. The scary thing was that Bram was definitely going to use this as an excuse to tickle me more.

"What do you think you're doing, Spier?" He said, his mock-stern voice making my insides quiver.

"I just...err...wanted a pillow." The sudden restriction of movement in my arms was unusual, but not entirely unwelcome.

"Were you trying to escape, Spier?" Bram's eyebrow raised and his hazel eyes bored into mine, a shimmer of utter amusement in them. Using his free hand he traced a single nail around and around my chest through my shirt, making me hold my breath. The single source of stimulation traced down the side of my ribs, along the bottom, back up the other side, straight down my sternum and then around and across my nipples. That tracing, though it was small, kept me in rapt attention, nervous about (but not entirely dreading) what would come next.

"Whaaaaat?" I played along, darting my eyes anywhere but his. "Pffffftt. No..."

The finger carried on its torturous journey. "Because you know what happens to naughty boys who try to escape?"

Naughty boys? Holy shit, was he trying to turn me on?

"W-what happens?" I asked.

"They get raspberries."

It was like the *Holy Music Stops* meme come to life. It was a record scratch moment, and the second of silence as his words sank in stretched for a lifetime.

My face dropped like a stone and my eyes lit up with alarm. "Waihihit! Bram, waihihiht!" I pleaded, already giggling at the mere idea of raspberries, but he had already released my arms and was pulling up my top up to expose my pasty torso. Before it even registered to try and stop him Bram had wrapped his warm lips around a soft spot on my stomach, just left of my belly button, and blown violently, rippling his lips against my skin. I arched my back as the first blow landed and howled with laughter, flailing my legs meekly under Bram's weight. As soon as the first one was over he whipped to another place, on my ribs this time, and did another one.

"FUHUHUHUHUHUCKHAHAHAHAHAHA--HAHAHAHAHAHA!" My laughter was like machine gun fire, rapid and extreme, but it only lasted as long as each raspberry on my person. Something about the combination of the warmth and wetness of Bram's lips on my bare skin, plus the hot air and vibrations of the exhale melded together perfectly to create a perfect tickle bomb from hell.

In between each sensory bombardment I pleaded with my merciless boyfriend, who was applying the devil's kiss fast and efficiently like a robot arm at a factory. "Waaihihihihihihihihit-Bram please no no-NOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA!-please, Bram, it-TIHIHIHIHICKLES!-I'm begging you-PLEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSE!-have mercy-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

But he wouldn't listen. He blitzed my receptive torso from my ribs, down and around my stomach, and even along my waistband, which was a freaky combo of hyper-ticklish and extremely exciting, to the point that I could feel Simon Jr. (I don't seriously call my penis that, BTW) starting to stir in my jeans. Any raspberry place on my navel felt like he was tickling my very soul. My eyes were watering with laughter by the time he let up and I flopped against the bed, breathing heavily.

"Jesus Christ," I said, "It's like doing a workout."

"That bad?" He said, with a smug smile and hopped off me, lying next to me on the bed.

"Yes. That was fucking torture." I grabbed the pillow I had been reaching for and smacked him with it before trying to subtly drape it across the CODE RED growing in my jeans. But of course, Bram 'Hawkeyes' Greenfield spotted something was up immediately.

He raised a knowing eyebrow at me. "What are you hiding down there?"

"Nothing." I blushed, pursing my lips in a reluctant smile at what I knew was coming. Bram really was in a mischievous mood that night.

"Nothing?" He prodded. "Don't make me tickle it out of you."

I sat up and bum-shuffled to the edge of my bed, clutching the pillow for dear life. "It's nothing."

"If it's nothing then put down the pillow..." He smirked, reaching for it. I jerked away and shuffled for the bathroom, but Bram gave chase, scrambling off the bed and fencing me against the wall before I could escape.

"Abraham Greenfield!" I exclaimed, hollering like a 1950s damsel in distress. "Leave me be, you menace!"

"If you move the pillow I will." He said, persistent.

I clamped my lips together stubbornly, then sighed in capitulation, letting the pillow drop.

"My, my, Mr Spier! Was I that sexy a tickler?" He joked, staring down.

"Shut up!" I punched him lightly in the shoulder and he shrugged it off with a laugh.

"Wait, wait, wait." He whispered, looking sexier than he ever had. He leant forward and skirted my face with his chin before planting soft and sensual kisses on my neck. "I know just the cure for your little situation."

And, slick like an oil spill, he popped the button on my jeans.


End file.
